


The Family Business

by sarCATstic1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Bond, Gen, I hate John Winchester, Werewolf, dean is a good big brother, i cry over sam and dean's brother feels, i hope everyone hates him as much as i do, sibling feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9226925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarCATstic1/pseuds/sarCATstic1
Summary: Dean and Sam go on their first hunt with their Dad, but it ends up not going as planned. (I'm terrible at writing summaries. I'm so sorry.)





	

_Finally!_ Dean wanted to roll down the Impala’s passenger side window and scream his satisfaction to the world. Four days he’d been stuck inside that motel room Dad had left him and Sam at, and he could only watch reruns of Wheel of Fortune for so long before he snapped. The minute Dad got home, Dean had practically begged him to take them out, take them somewhere, anywhere. Just get them out of that cramped, beige-wallpapered room with its floral bedspreads and too-thin pillows. Dad had scowled at him for a minute before sighing and throwing a folded up newspaper on the table. On the front page, the headline read, “6 Hikers Found Dead in 3 Months, Local Law Enforcement Stumped”.

  
     “If you think you’re ready,” Dad had grunted when Dean glanced up at him. “It’s about time you boys got some field experience, anyway.” Dean didn’t sleep a wink that night.

  
     Sam had been on edge from the moment they’d told him, bouncing his leg anytime he was sitting, fidgeting with the bottom of his jacket, and the ever telling hand brushing at his too-long bangs over and over again. Dean wanted to tell him that it’d be okay, that Dad wouldn’t let anything happen to them, but he kept his thoughts to himself. No chick-flick moments, as he always said. Besides, Sam had to know that stuff, anyway. It was Dad they were talking about.

~

  
     They stopped at a gas station not far from Gatlinburg, Tennessee, the location of their next hunt. They weren’t exactly what you’d call ‘conventional hunters’. Don’t get him wrong, they tracked things down and killed them, or at least Dad did. He and Sam just tagged along for the ride. The things they hunted weren’t your everyday game. Less deer and elk, more vampires and ghouls.  
When Dad got out of the Impala to pump the gas, Dean turned around in his seat to look at his brother. The poor kid was nose-deep in a book and had a handful more, as well as some loose papers, scattered around on the remaining empty space of the back seat. Dad had entrusted him with figuring out what it was they were going after. Sure, it might not have been the best idea to let a twelve year old figure out what they would need to be prepared for, but Sam wasn’t your average twelve year old. The kid was smarter than Dean would ever be, and Dean was proud to say that. Sam had a thing for books and research like Dean had a thing for shotguns and girls.

 

     “Whatch’ya got, Sammy?” He prompted, hoping to give the kid’s eyes a break. If he read much more Dean was afraid his brain would melt.

  
     Sam sighed and dropped the book in his lap. He rubbed at his eyes with his hands for a moment before speaking. “There isn’t much to go on, but from what I can tell it’s a werewolf.”

  
     Dean groaned in irritation. “Seriously? My first real hunt, and it’s just a stupid werewolf?” He threw himself back against his seat.

  
     “It could be worse, Dean. It could be something we don’t know anything about. At least we know how to kill a werewolf,” Sam chided, picking his book back up. “And don’t call me Sammy, jerk.”

  
     “Bitch.” Dean smirked and leaned forward, ruffling Sam’s hair. His brother whined at him, something about messing up his hair, but Dean wasn’t listening anymore. Dad had opened the driver side door and was sliding inside.

  
     “You got anything yet, Sam?” He barked, all business. Dean frowned, not liking Dad’s tone, but didn’t say anything.

  
     “Yes, sir,” Sam replied, sitting up a little straighter. “The article said that all of the bodies were found the day after a full moon, and that it looked like they’d been mauled by an animal. Except, get this, all of them had their hearts ripped out of their chests and eaten.” Sam glanced up at Dad and shrugged, “Put two and two together.…”

  
     “Sounds like a werewolf to me,” Dad finished, nodding his head. He put the Impala in gear and pulled out of the gas station. “Let’s go get us a Big Bad Wolf.”

 

~

 

     “Remind me again, why are we walking around in the woods in the middle of the night by ourselves?” Sam grumbled, kicking at a rock.

  
     “Because,” Dean replied, scanning the trees for any sign of movement. “Dad said we could cover more ground if we split up,” he turned around and glared at Sam, “and keep your voice down, you idiot,” he hissed, throwing an arm out at the trees surrounding them. “We’re hunting a werewolf, remember?” He turned back around and tightened his grip on the pistol Dad had given him. He brushed his hand over his jacket pocket where he had put the silver bullets Dad tossed to him a few hours earlier. That’s how you ganked a werewolf, bullet or knife, some silver to the heart would put it down for good.

  
     Sam had a knife, and though it looked a little silly in his hands, the kid definitely knew how to use it. Dean had been sure to teach him everything he knew about self-defense a long time ago as a precaution. In their family business, you never knew when you’d have to fight for your life, and Dean wanted Sam to be prepared. If Dean had any say in it, though, Sam wouldn’t have to worry about that. He’d go to college and have a normal, apple pie life. But, unfortunately, Dad was in charge, not Dean.

  
     “Yeah, I know,” Sam huffed, keeping his voice down as Dean had warned, “but we’ve been out here for over an hour and haven’t seen anything.” Sam was right. They had all set out into the woods as soon as it had gotten dark, but here is was almost one in the morning and there had been neither hide nor hair of the monster.

  
     “Fine,” Dean grunted and stopped walking. “You’re right. We’ll double back and find Dad. Maybe he’ll know what’s going on.” Sam nodded and followed close behind him as they picked their way through the bramble back the direction they’d come from.

  
     It didn’t take them very long to hike back to their designated meeting place, not too worried about drawing attention to themselves anymore now that they weren’t sure the werewolf was even there. Dad was nowhere to be seen, so Sam sat on a stump while Dean paced around the small clearing. As he passed a tree, something caught his eye. He moved closer to examine it and felt his stomach drop like a rock when he realized what it was.

  
     There, carved into the dark tree bark, was Dad’s scrawl, distinctive even with the choppy markings from a knife.

  
_don’t run_  
_need it here_

  
     “Bait,” Dean breathed, his heart flying into his throat and nearly choking him. “We’re live bait.” He turned back to Sam, his ‘protect your little brother’ instinct punching its way through his head, and closed the distance between them in three strides. All the noise they had made on their way back had to have gotten the werewolf’s attention. He cursed himself for being careless. He couldn’t be so stupid, not when Sam was with him.

  
     “Dean?” He nearly jumped at the sound of Sam’s voice. “What’s wrong?” Dean tried for six seconds to think of a good excuse he could use. For six seconds, he tried to think of something to say that would reassure his little brother. But there was nothing. All he could do was stare dumbly at his brother as he struggled to find the right words while an endless chant of _livebaitlivebaitlivebait_ played through his head.

  
     A deep growl from behind him made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Sam’s eyes fixed on something over his shoulder and widened in terror, and Dean steeled himself before he turned to face the monster.

  
     It looked like a normal person at first, a tall, average-joe guy with dark hair and eyes to match, but when Dean looked closer, he could see the distinctive characteristics of a werewolf. The guy’s mouth was full of fangs, like ‘Cujo is pissed’ fangs, and long claws extended out from his fingers. Definitely not human.

  
     “Sammy,” Dean whispered, not taking his eyes off the creature in front of him, “stay behind me.” He didn’t bother waiting for a response from his brother before he raised his pistol and aimed at the werewolf’s chest.

  
     Only to have it disappear in front of his eyes.

  
     A noise to his left caught his attention, but before he could turn something slammed into him and sent him flying into a tree, knocking the gun out of his hand. The blow left him winded and dizzy, but he pushed himself to his feet when he heard his brother let out a terrified yelp. Looking up, he saw Sam and the werewolf circling each other warily, and Dean felt a small rush of pride when he noticed that Sam’s knife hand only shook slightly.

  
     “Hey,” he yelled, picking a rock up and throwing it at the werewolf. “I’m not finished with you yet.” The werewolf snarled at him as he moved forward, drawing its attention away from Sam.

  
     “Dean,” Sam hissed, his voice a few octaves higher in fear, and Dean waved a hand at him, brushing off his brother’s concern. He needed to focus.

  
     “That’s right, Fido,” Dean taunted, slipping his own silver knife from its sheath on his belt. He’d stashed it there on a last minute gut-feeling before they’d gone into the woods, and now he was glad he had.

  
     He knew werewolves had superhuman speed, as well as many other powers. Sam had told him so during one of his long nerdgasm rants after a particularly interesting book, so he started a downward swing as soon as it took a step forward, anticipating where it would be. Sure enough, Dean felt his knife make contact with something solid right before his shoulder was slashed by what he hoped were claws. The werewolf yelped, and a hissing, sizzling sound filled the air from the silver burning its skin as they both danced away from each other.

  
     Dean clutched at his aching shoulder, letting himself relax for a second when he saw his own blood on the werewolf’s claws rather than its teeth. A scratch may hurt, but a bite was infectious. And there was no cure for a werewolf bite. The monster snarled at Dean again, and he braced himself for another attack as it bent at the knees, ready to leap to the side if it decided to go for Sam.

  
     Suddenly, a loud bang! echoed throughout the small clearing, and Dean slumped in exhaustion and relief when the werewolf was knocked off its feet and onto its back. He watched its chest rise and fall with shuttering breaths, once, twice, and then still as it finally died.

  
     “Dean,” Sam ran to him and pressed a firm hand to his injured shoulder, drawing a pained groan from him, “are you okay?”

  
     “You should’ve been faster, Dean,” Dad growled, making both of them jump as he came up behind them as he appeared through the trees, rifle slung over his shoulder. “That werewolf should have never touched you.”

  
     “Yes, sir,” Dean muttered, biting his tongue to keep from saying a few colorful words. “I’ll do better next time.”

  
     Dad snorted at him, turning his back to him and Sam as he made his out of the clearing. “If there’s a next time,” he spat, “and take care of the body.” Dean watched his back for a moment before sighing and turning to the dead werewolf.

  
     “C’mon, Sam,” he prompted, pulling out a lighter from his jacket pocket, “let’s get this over with.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic, so please be nice. If you have any suggestions please let me know!


End file.
